Saturday, August 20, 2016

She was always apologizing for being in the way, for speaking too loud, and for not being enough.

I wonder if she was aware that she was apologizing away her existence.

She apologized for the hair that was out of place and the way her arms moved in her sleeveless top.

She apologized for being too forward and five minutes later for not being brave enough.

With every single apology she reduced herself to the size of a pebble no bigger than my pinky nail, sitting quietly along the path as an adornment but not to disturb anyone too much, and definitely not ever going anywhere herself.

I like to think that girl is gone but every once in a while she pops her head out.

When she appears I remind her to love herself graciously and to stop apologizing for the life she’s been given.

I give her permission to be loud and awkward.

I let her cry, and get in people’s way.

And I tell her not to apologize for being herself, even if someone else wants her to.

Most importantly I assure her that it is never ever her fault if someone else can’t handle the weight of who she is and to remember her hair is out of place because that’s how the wind likes it as she dances in the woods.